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jungkookienoona · 6 years

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The Arach (M)

|Masterlist|Ko-Fi|

Happy Birthday Jungkook!

Summary:

In a time of magic and gods. Of mythical creatures and sacrifices, you were to meet your fate. You were to be offered to the arach.

Genre: Smut, Celtic AU, Mythical/Supernatural, Crackish

Pairing: Dragon!Jungkook X Reader (Y/N)

Warnings: Swearing, Sexual Situations, mentions of human sacrifice, claiming

Word Count: 6106

Vocab: tuath = tribe, ri = chief/king, fine = family, arach = dragon, filid = seer/soothsayers

For months the shadow of a great winged beast had passed over your tuath’s land, cows and sheep disappearing once every week since it’s appearance. Your father, the tuath’s ri, had sent your twin brother to fetch a druid once he caught wind of the first sighting.

You had been first in your tuath to see it, having been under the wing of the tuath’s bard for training. Just two more winters and your training would be complete.

You had been practicing the art of voice when the light of the midday sun was blocked, causing you to cast your gaze towards it. Your breath caught in your throat when golden scales shimmered in the day’s glow. Though hot on its tail were rolling dark clouds, thundering as they spread and trailed behind it. A storm. The beast had bought a storm with it. It wasn’t long before shouts filled the air, others finally noticing what was in the sky.

The sun was beginning it’s journey westward by the time your brother had returned with a druid in tow. The druid was bought into your father’s home to discuss the beast and its presence. As you were the first one to see the creature before the clouded sky obscured its silhouette, you had been allowed to join them. The priest was quick to tell you that the beast, the arach, was a good omen. One of fertile land and a good harvest as well bringing the power of mother earth with it since arachs were chosen by the gods to be the guardians of wisdom and the known world. And the fact it bought rain with it seemed to be further proof that the arach’s presence was a blessing.

The druid encouraged your father to make sure the arach stayed, and to make offerings; to turn a blind eye to any livestock that went missing and to send the beast sacrifices.

And so your father followed the advice given. He didn’t fuss over the odd sheep going missing, but when weapons and precious materials started disappearing, he started the practice of making sacrifices.

At first he sent the non-freeman, those who broke the tuath laws, only for them to return with heads bowed in shame and carrying a message:

“The arach wishes to be sent only young maidens who are of age but no younger than 18 winters.”

When word caught your ear of the demand, your stomach dropped. Yes, it was an honour to be sacrificed to a great being, but there was only few who fit the category of appropriate offerings. You were one of those few and since your father could not find you a willing suitor and your bard training soon to come to an end, it was highly likely you would be offered. Once you had finished your training, you would not be allowed to wed either. Your father and brother had been particularly desperate to find you a suitor before it was too late but all were driven away by your brash behaviour. A side effect of having no female figure in your life since your mother died in childbirth, just like the goddess Macha. A woman-turned-goddess who died while birthing twins, exhausted from being made to race against steeds by her husband.

You watched as once a month, a girl around your age would disappear into the forest, never to return. Then the day arrived. The day you were chosen for sacrifice. Your father had made a speech to the rest of the tuath about how it honoured him greatly to give up his only daughter to the arach. Your brother, on the other hand, pleaded for you to leave the tuath. To run to safety, even though it went against his own training as a soon to be druid himself. He could not bare to lose his only sister, his twin and other half. But you refused. Running away would bring a curse onto the tuath. You couldn’t let that happen. So with a heavy heart, your brother offered you the only protection he could offer: a prayer to Cernunnos before you entered the woodland to the east of your lands, to where the arach’s den laid.

“I don’t see why I need protection when crossing through the forest when the other sacrifices did not.” You complained while the elder women of your father’s fine fussed with your hair and clothing. You had to look presentable for your death.

They braided your hair, weaving freshly picked flora and beads into the intricacies they created. Designs that were memorized and passed down through generations. A torc adorned your neck, the gold resting heavily on your collar bones. As daughter of the ri, golden rings decorated your body. They proudly situated on your arms, wrists, fingers and ankles. You were dressed in purple floor length tunic, sleeves short as to showcase your golden bands. Intricate designs had been sown into the tunic in a lighter shade of purple while a simple gold chain girdle rested on your hips.

“It is Ostara, the day of the goddess Eostre, the animals and creatures are in rut. We need you to reach the arach untouched.”

You gulped, “Do… do you think I will remain untouched when I join mother in the Otherworld?”

Your brother placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, mindful of the hard work of the fine.

“Ask the filid when it is time for you to be offered. They will have the answer, I cannot see into the future.”

You stood in front of the forest, in the same place where the offerings before you had stood. The filid was beside you, a cloak around her shoulders, her hood down to show her painted face. The twisting patterns holding ancient meanings.

“Filid, may I ask, when I join my mother… will I be untouched?”

The filid gave you a gentle smile, “Do not worry about the Otherworld, arach silliin, you have the blood of Macha with you. It is time for you to meet your fate. Recite the prayer your brother gave you.”

With a shaky breath, you staightened your back, wishing your father would tell them to stop. You looked over to him only for him to give you a nod.

“G-God of the green, Lord of the forest, I offer you my s-s-sacrifice.” Your focus went back to the forest, “I ask you for your blessing. You are the man in the trees, the green man of the woods, who brings life to the dawning spring.” A light began to shine within the foliage, “You are the deer in rut, mighty Horned One, who roams the autumn woods, the hunter circling round the oak, the antlers of the wild stag, and the lifeblood that spills upon the ground each season.” Your voice grew in confidence as it approached, “God of the green, Lord of the forest, I offer you my sacrifice. I ask you for your blessing.”

From the light emerged an almighty stag.

The filid gave you a gentle push towards it, “Cernunnos has come to escort you. He gives you his blessing and accepts you as the tuath’s sacrifice.”

The stag lowered onto its front legs, as if bowing to you. You took tentative steps towards it and it gestured to its back, was it a silent command to hop on? Did the manifestation of the Lord of the forest really want you to ride it?

“Go on child of Macha, this is an honour only few get to have.” She took your hand and led you closer to the stag, helping to seat you on it’s back, “You are the daughter of the ri, silliin to the arach and child of the gods. This is your birthright.”

The filid untied a crown of flowers from her own girdle, placing it on your head with the utmost gentleness. And with that, the stag rose to it’s full height and turned away from your tuath. It took all your strength not to cry. You would be meeting your mother in the Otherworld soon enough.

The midday sun was at its peak, you were having difficulty staying awake. Until a soothing bartone filled your ears.

“We are there, daughter of Macha.”

“W-who said that?”

The stag turned it’s head to look at you as it continued forward, entering a clearing, “I did, child.”

That couldn’t be. There was no way Cernunnos was speaking to you through his avatar. The stag once again lower to allow you off its back. Though it did not leave. Instead, it lowered itself further to lay on the lush green grass in front of you.

“Why are you shocked? You are a daughter of Macha, descendant of a goddess from the Morrigan.”

You couldn’t have been more confused, “What d-do you mean?”

The stag tilted its head, apparently confused itself, “Do you not know of the blood that runs through your veins? The lineage you inherited from your mother?”

“She died in childbirth. I never met her.”

The stag nodded in… understanding?... “Only the filid must know of your bloodline then, since your mother came from a neighbouring tuath. Child, Macha was your mother’s mother’s mother.”

You were about to question the stag further when a great wind blew into the clearing, bellowing, as a shadow appeared over you. The arach had arrived. The arach had arrive and you had just found out your were a descendant of a goddess. You couldn’t die. Not now. You had so much more to learn.

You turned towards the beast as it descended into the clearing, golden scales shimmering, catching the light. Unbeknownst to you, the stag stood back up as the arach landed, the arach’s wings folded in as it bowed to the stag. And with that, the stag left back into the woods.

Lightning crackled around the beast, building up to a blinding degree before disappearing with a flash. There, before you, was the most handsome man you had ever seen. Long dark hair the colour of the skin from a ripe cherry framed his face, complimenting his aureate skin. Wide eyes, silver like the moon, took in your own features and his nose scented the air before his lips split into a toothy grin. Golden scales covered his shoulders and sides, leaving his undersides like his stomach uncovered… He was naked…

“My my, aren’t you the bejeweled one? You must be from a wealthy family. And from the purple gown… you’re royalty in your tuath. The ri’s daughter perhaps?”

Even his voice sounded gorgeous. Why did death have to greet you like this? Couldn’t it have stayed as a giant beast?

“A… Are you the arach?”

“No shit. You just saw me transform. And I have a name. It’s Jungkook.”

Jungkook…

As hard as you tried your eyes kept wandering downwards. Sure you had seen the warriors of your tuath bereft of clothing but none were as attractive as the creature that was approaching you in slow measured steps. Jungkook appeared to be sizing you up.

“Could you m-maybe cover up? The only man I should see like this is my future husband.”

Jungkook laughed, his eyes gleaming deviously, “You are here to be sacrificed, maiden, there is no future husband for you.”

A furious anger made itself known inside of you as he mentioned your lack of a future.

“I am not ‘maiden’. I am Y/N of Cauci. My father is the ri of the tuath, and my mother's lineage is of the great goddess Macha. You will not kill me and you will stay on my tuath’s land.”

“Kill you? I don’t plan on killing you, my little demi-god. If I wanted a dead sacrifice, I would’ve asked for a grand ceremony, a public spectacle.”

Silence filled the space between you as Jungkook’s eyes glimmered with mirth. You weren’t going to die… but if that was the case…

“What happened to those before me?”

He smiled, surprising you with how… human… his teeth looked. You were expecting rows upon rows of daggers, like a lynx.

“They’re safe. I delivered them to different tuaths. A person rejected by an arach is dishonoured, an omen. A person gifted by an arach is treated with respect.”

You took Jungkook’s word for it and breathed a sigh of relief. Arach’s didn’t lie after all. The other girls were safe… Did that mean the same for you? Would you be taken across the land only to be dropped at some other tuath’s land? No longer the Ri’s duaghter, your training as a bard abandoned? Would you be forced to marry?

It was strange how easily you accepted the prospect of all this earlier when you thought you were facing death. But now you knew that death wasn’t what the deities had planned for you… You’re chest began to constrict.

“So… so… You’re going to make me leave my home behind… for the sake of my honour?”

Jungkook scoffed, seemingly having closed the space between you while you were caught in thought. His hand coming up to cup your chin, eyes staring into your own, amusement swimming within them.

“Little demi-god, your honour is mine. I’m making you leave your home because it is the fates will. Why else would you be bought to me by Cernunnos during Ostara?”

You blinked up at him as the pieces began to fit together in your head. Ostara, the time beasts and animals alike went into rut… An arach asking for maidens of age… He was looking for a suitable partner to state his needs.

You took a step away from him, “Do you honestly believe I’d let you… lay with me?!”

Jungkook looked taken aback, clearly thinking you wouldn’t question fate’s will. You crossed your arms as he shook his head, that smirk of his returning.

“Maybe I was too… arrogant… I’ll be as clear as possible. We, you and I, are tied by fate. I am of age and have been searching for my life mate. My silliin.” He took a tentative step forward to once again close the distance. “I knew I had found where they were when flying above your tuath. I could smell them. But I couldn’t tell who it was. From the scent I knew they were a maiden of age.”

Your eyesbrows drew together. The filid and Cernunnos had referred to you as silliin. Had this been what they meant?

“And… You think I’m her?”

His tongue snuck out, wetting his lips, “I know it is you.” He leant forward, towards your neck, and sniffed, “Definitely you.”

Fate sure had a strange sense of humour. The daughter who couldn’t find a suitor was destined to be the life mate of an arach. AN ARACH… A gorgeous one at that…

“Why should I accept you?”

He straightened up to look down at you, concerned and uncertain, “Because you want me? The spice of your arousal is colouring your scent so deliciously.”

You huffed, “At least others tried to court me-”

“Arach’s don’t court. In fact, this is the closest to courtship you’ll get from my kind. My mother literally spotted my father and swooped down, carting him off to her home.”

Your jaw dropped and he chuckled, arms sneakily wrapping around you.

“Will you accept me, my little demi-god? I can provide you with shelter, food, protection… freedom to see the world if that is your desire. And in return all you need do is be the mother of my children.”

Fear crept into your veins, travelling to your heart and constricting your throat. None of the women on your mother’s side had survived childbirth from what you knew. It was always twins and certain death.

“I-I- I’ll die-die if I-”

He cut you off by pressing you to him, “Can you feel it? My heart beat? Once we consummate our joining, we’ll share it. Your heart will beat with mine for as long as I live. Don’t be afraid, Y/N of Cauci.”

And you could feel it. Strong against your own chest, already beating in time with your own erratic one. He was just as afraid as you. Though he was afraid of rejection, you were afraid of dying.

You barely noticed how close his face had drawn to yours, too caught up in his silver eyes that grew darker the longer you stayed pressed up to him. Well, you barely noticed until he spoke again, his lips brushing against yours, sending tingling sparks across them.

“Will you accept me? I need your answer.”

What was the point in rejecting him? You no longer had a fine you could return to. At least he offered you a choice on how you would proceed in life.

"I lost everything as soon as I was chosen to be a sacrifice, I have nothing more I can lose.”

You heard what sounded like a faint whine, like the arach was distressed by your words.

"Accept me and you don't have to lose everything. I'll remain by your tuath. You can still go see them. My mark on you will let them know you are not dishonoured."

You didn’t have to lose everything. Your brother’s face flashed before your mind’s eye. With that thought in mind, you gave him your answer.

“I… I accept-”

His lips were on yours in an instant, lightning suddenly coursing through you in place of the fear that once gripped you. Was this what all kisses felt like? Cause you could’ve gotten addicted to them. The building heat radiating from him was seeping through your tunic, contrasting the chill of the spring air against your back.

You were the one to break the kiss, panting for breath as more sparks spread through you where his hands ran up your back and down your sides, making quick work of your girdle. The metal snapping under his strength.

“Say it again, I won’t interrupt you this time.”

His eyes had turned pitch black save for a few flecks of silver that survived, making it seem like the night sky was trapped in his gaze, much like you were.

“I accept you… Jungkook.”

Jungkook’s eyes slid shut as he visibly shivered, taking a deep breath before opening them again.

“You won’t regret this, I promise.”

He then proceeded to rip your tunic down the front. Didn’t he know how expensive purple dye was?! And exposing you to him with no hesitation either? The nerve. One arm flew up to cover your breasts while the other shot downwards to cover your most intimate area. But he paid you no mind, taking the remains of your tunic and laying it out on the grass beside you. It’s not like he wasn’t affected by your nakedness if the hardness between his legs was anything to go by. You’d admit to being confused by his actions.

At least you were until he patted the material he had lain on the ground, “Care to join me down here, Vahdin?”

You took a moment to truly look at him. How the breeze gave his long tresses life. How his scales caught the sun and glittered like jewels. A creature that was indeed blessed by the gods themselves yet nothing like how legend described. No tale ever told to you, that you learnt from the current bard, mentioned an arach taking human form. Heat built in your chest and spread up your neck, to your cheeks and settled on your ears. From his beauty or his simple act of attentiveness, you didn’t know.

Taking tentative steps towards him, you stopped once your feet were on the rich fabric. Slowly, you lowered onto the remnants of your clothing, still covering yourself with your arms.

“Do… Do you want me to remove my jewelry?”

He shook his head, “They’re a sign of your status. That would be like asking me to cut my hair.”

You gave him a quizzical look.

“I’ll explain it later. We’ll have all the time in the world to learn about each other.” He reached up and removed the flower crown from atop your head. You were surprised it had stayed on at all. “Let’s focus on the now. The offering of each others bodies.”

“Ha-have you done this before?”

He chuckled, “Of course not. My body is for you, my silliin, and you alone.”

You were taken aback by his gentleness as he gripped your wrist and moved the arm covering your breasts away. His eyes widened, reminding you of the forest animals when they caught sight of a human. But that wasn’t the case with him. His eyes didn’t hold fear. They held reverence. Taking in the details of you at his leisure. He muttered things to himself in a language you did not know. Did arach have their own tongue? One word you did understand - Lugh.

His hands travelled to your breasts, cupping them delicately, “Soft. So soft. I’ve been blessed with such a fine mate.”

“Fine? Am I simply fine?”

His eyes snapped towards yours, a playful smile on his lips, “You’re more than fine. I would say you’re perfect but I’d like to see and feel all of you before I decide.”

Your free hand went to his chest, marvelling at it’s firmness and the difference in texture from skin and scale. Both gave way under the pressure of your hand. But where his skin was soft yet firm, his scales were rough yet smooth.

“Do you even know how to… to…?” You couldn’t bring yourself to finish your sentence but he seemed to catch on to your question.

His cheeks were dusted rose, a first for the confident arach, “I’ve stumbled across humans… mating on my travels searching for you. And my father explained the male side of things, my mother explained the arach side.”

You remembered coming across amorous couples A-maying during Beltane when you had gone herb picking in the forest for your brother. The memory made your own cheeks colour.

“O-oh. Is it different for arach?”

Jungkook coaxed you to lay back, his hands having moved to your shoulders, “We… uh… we mate for life. We show that bond through a claiming mark-”

“Like a marriage knot?”

“...I have no idea what that is.”

You blinked up at him, “You… don’t know… what a marriage knot is?” He avoided eye contact, choosing to once again focus on your breasts, massaging them under his palms. “It’s uh… um… stop distracting me… it’s what’s-ah! What’s tied around the hands of those who want to be paired for life.”

He stopped tweaking your nipples to look at you in confusion, “They spend the rest of their lives literally tied together?”

You couldn’t help it. You laughed. It just slipped out. And once it did you couldn’t stop it.

“Don’t be ridiculous. They’re only tied together in the ceremony. After the hand-fastening has been done they exchange and wear rings that act as proof of their union.”

“So humans have two types of marking? One temporary and one permanent?” You nodded as he traced a pattern onto your stomach, “Arach only have one way of marking. It is forever and is etched into skin with our lu. It’s part of the mating process.”

“Oh…” You were feeling somewhere between shocked and awkward, “Will… will it hurt?”

His hands traveled even lower to rest on your hips, his head coming down to settle on your breasts, looking up at you, “No. It won’t feel good or bad. My dad said his mark felt like someone was blowing a design onto his stomach. Which makes sense since my mother is an arach of the wind.”

“What kind of arach are you?”

“I am an arach of lightning, blessed by Lugh himself.”

“So how will your mark feel?”

Jungkook smirked at that question, mischief in his eyes, “Probably like this.”

With that he turned his head and captured one of your nipples between his lips, tongue sweeping across, sending tingles through you. You gasped and instinctively arched into him, fingers twining into his cherry locks, to pull him closer or push him away, you did not know. Your grip tightened when his teeth grazed along the stiffening bud, a small noise of… approval rumbling in his throat. To your embarrassment you felt your own body reacting to it, heat pooling in your stomach and becoming a sticky wetness between your thighs. You had felt this before so it was not unfamiliar but before this moment you only knew the sensation from heated dreams and the sweaty mess you’d wake up as.

He released the pebbled bud with a lewd pop, gaze travelling southward as his nose twitched, “Fuck. You’re like this already?” He groaned, “So wet for me, from my touch. Zu'u nox rah tol vorohah hi fah zey.”

You didn’t have the chance to ask him what he had just said as his hand that had been resting on your hip trailed a path of sparks to your core. His fingers pressed against your slit then swiped upwards, flicking the little pleasure nub you had down there. (You knew it was something that made you feel good, but you did not know if it had a name.) Jungkook lent back, making sure you had a good view of him as his bought his essence covered fingers to his mouth, tongue slipping out to sample you before lightly groaning and sucking on his fingers. Something warm dripped onto your thighs, distracting you from his little display. Your eyes flicked down to the spot, coming upon a small translucent puddle of white there. Another drip. You retraced it fall to… the arach’s hard red cock. Curiosity led your actions as one of your own hands left his shoulders to swipe your index finger through the little puddle. You found yourself rubbing the substance between your finger and thumb, feeling the consistency before copying Jungkook’s actions.

Your nose scrunched up at the salty taste and slimy texture, making a mental note never to let that stuff come near your mouth again. Jungkook tilted his head to the side in confusion.

“Why did you do that?”

“I-I was copying you. Why did you?”

He chuckled and leant down to nuzzle his cheek against your own, “I did it to double check you were fertile. Your scent gives a small indication but the only true way for me to know is to get a taste of you.”

“I-I-Is it important that I am?”

He sat up and shook his head, “Not for the bonding. But it is Ostara, remember.”

You paled. Having just found out you were a descendant of Macha, who ruled over fertility amongst other things, it was more than likely you would end up with child after the bonding. You prayed to the gods that the arach was right in saying you wouldn't die in childbirth.

Jungkook offered you a gentle smile, a hand coming up to caress your cheek as if to brush away your worries, “Breathe, Vahdin, everything will be alright.”

His other hand grabbed your ankle to reposition one of your legs over his shoulder before positioning his member at your core. His tongue once again swiped across his lips as he leant down to capture your own in a heated kiss. Those addicting sparks coursing through you intensified as he pushed himself into your heat, stretching you out on him, taking your maidenhood. It created a dull ache, almost like a slow growing burn but his lips moving against yours, tongue asking for entrance, distracted you until he was fully sheathed.

You broke the kiss with a shaky gasp, your body adjusting to the foreign object buried deep inside you, sparks tingling from your connection. Panting drew your attention to the male above you. His arms were shaking, brows furrowed in concentration. He seemed more affected than you.

“Shit… so hot… so tight.” He groaned, “I want to fuck you so bad… Please tell me I can.”

“J-j-just give me… a moment. You’re bigger than my fingers.”

Jungkook’s eyes went comically large, “You’ve touched yourself? Fuuuuck~”

His hips rolled forward, grinding against yours, the friction it created making you both moan in pleasure. The motion had caused him to brush against somewhere in your core that felt so good you involuntary clenched around him.

“Fuck! Lugh... give me strength... “ Jungkook took a deep breath and let out a strangled groan as you wrapped your free leg around his waist, pushing him further into you, “Why did you have to be the descendant of a goddess who rules over sex magik?”

If you weren’t so focused on how he felt and how his pelvis rubbed against that special nub, you would’ve asked him what the fuck he meant. But, lucky for him, you were thoroughly distracted. Everywhere your skin touched his had sparks flying through you. Something aside from pleasure began to build inside of you. A type of pressure. One beside the release you had known from your alone time.

What the? What was happening?

You noticed that the leg strewn over Jungkook’s shoulder was glowing red like a fire. Though you did not have a moment to dwell on this as the arach shifted, pressing ever closer to you, sweat dripping as you felt the slight scratch of his scales.

The pressure releases, causing you to scream in ecstasy, drowning out the utterances of the arach as a hand pressed into your stomach, what felt like lightning spreading out from his touch to encompass you.

Everything turned black.

You awoke in a place entirely unfamiliar, on plush animal pelts, torches keeping the cold and dark at bay. Aching, you sat up, pausing to note how much… lighter you felt. Strange. Looking around you realised you were in a cave but it was littered with things such as gold, jewelry, cured meats, weaponry and clothing items. The bard had told you stories of places like these, passed to him by those who did not follow the same gods as your people. Those who stole from arach and lived to tell the tale. This was a den.

Memories from before you fell unconscious resurfaced in your mind. You had sex with an arach. The Arach! You looked down to find intricate blue markings adorning your stomach in a design that was actually familiar to you. It was a ceremonial marriage knot. A sign of your union.

It really did happen.

You had agreed to spend your life with Jungkook.

But that wasn’t the only thing adorning your skin. You had scales! Golden scales! What in the fuck? They were on the outer parts of your arms and thighs, your calves covered but your stomach and inner thighs bare.

“You’re awake then now, dii mal hef ekrah.” Jungkook drawled with a smug smirk, appearing from behind a huge pile of clothing, somehow still naked.

You hastily covered yourself with one of the pelts, “What happened to me?”

The arach plopped down beside you, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“It appears you became connected with your divine heritage. You even have Macha’s fiery hair now. Happened after you became all glow-y and passed the fuck out while cumming on my dick.”

Your cheeks heated at his crude wording. You didn’t dwell on it for long though, grasping a handful of your hair to find that it really had changed. This made no sense. What was going on? Where you put under some kind of trickery magic? Was this real?

“You’ve got to be fucking with me…” You whispered in utter disbelief.

Jungkook laughed, “As much as I’d love to, I remember a certain maiden making a big fuss about courting.” He held out a bundle of fabric you hadn’t noticed before. “Put this on and I’ll take you back to your tauth.”

You were confused.

“Why?”

“So I can court you, hefhah.” He rolled his eyes at you, “Macha would skin me alive if I did wrong by you.... But not only that. It’s what you wanted and as my equal, dii vorey hef, what you deserve.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, unbidden. You were going home. You were going to see your fair and brother. The arach was keeping to what he said, you didn’t have to lose anything. Grateful, you took the blood red fabric from him, struggling to dress yourself while still covering your nakedness.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, silliin, no need to hide that body of yours from me, let me admire my handy work.”

You blinked owlishly at him, “Your handy work? I thought this was from being a daughter of Macha; apart from the mark on my stomach.”

He shook his head and chuckled, “The hair and glowing was Macha’s lu. The scales are from my lu too. It’s a side effect of it at least.”

Oh. That made sense. Sort of.

“We’re courting, you can’t see me naked until I say so.”

True to his word, Jungkook returned you to your village, taking his human form again once your feet were safely on the ground. Your tuath was confused at first, not recognising you, but an explanation from the filid about your change in appearance soon had them understanding. She was the first to welcome you back with an embrace, followed swiftly by your brother and finally your father himself.

You and Jungkook lived separately after that, he in his den and you in your roundhouse. He would come to visit you at least once a week, bringing the life giving rain with him along with gifts to win your affections. Gifts ranging from instruments and jewelry to weaponry and thick clothes made of toughened animal hide. Clothes that were put to good use when you insisted on sparing with him, all members of tuath could defend themselves in armed combat, you weren’t about to let your skills get rusty because your monthly cycle had stopped. You were the descendant of a war goddess afterall.

After 7 moon cycles, when your stomach had grown large and round, Jungkook had found a place for himself in your heart. The arach was loyal, protective and kept to his word. He did his upmost to make you happy. Though it was his smile that made you fall for him, how it made him look like a hare. And so you finally agreed to live with him in his den, officially bringing the courtship to an end. Well it would’ve done if he hadn’t insisted on a human marriage ceremony.

You went into labour during the 9th moon cycle since your bonding to Jungkook. Terror swimming through your veins as painful contractions started getting ever more frequent. You were led on a bed of fresh pelts, Jungkook wiping sweat drench strands away from your face.

“You can do this, lokaal, just breathe. You’re going to be alright.”

You whined in distress, “But what if… w-what I l-leave them like h-h-how my mu-ah! Mum left me~!”

That was you biggest concern, at first it had been the thought of death, but that had been replaced with the fear of abandoning your children.

You gripped his hand as you wailed in agony. You couldn’t die. You couldn’t leave them. You prayed to the gods that you would make it through this. You prayed Jungkook’s words were truth and not mere assumption.

Dread caused your stomach to sink when a lone raven flew into the den. The marker of those soon to die. Oh god no. Please no.

“Don’t fear my child, I am here to help.” The raven spoke, like Cernunnos many moons ago except feminine in tone.

Before your stinging eyes the raven transformed into a red-haired woman donning a cloak of black feathers. It was Macha. The goddess Macha, herself, had come to aid you in birthing. Your prayers were answered.

“Took you... long enough... to stop your... lineage from dying...” You got out between pants.

The goddess sent you a sombre look, “Most died before I could reach them.”

Well now you felt bad.

It wasn’t long after her arrival that two beautiful arach babies were held by mother and father, the small tuffs of hair a mix of their mother’s fiery red and father’s ripe cherry. Their scales were not golden like their parents, one was ocean blue while the other was lavender purple. Both were girls and for the first time in generations, daughters got to know a mother’s love.

#jungkooknet #gguknet #networkbangtan #jjks.net #armiesnet #jungkook smut #jungkook #boop #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jeongguk #jeon jeongguk #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic #bangtan #bangtan scenario #bangtan smut

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foxhenki-blog · 6 years

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Under the Sycamore Trees

Maybe it is fitting that I am writing this post in October. October, this cursed month. Surely not cursed for everyone and admittedly much better for me since my own re-enchantment but, still, Octobers for me really hit hard. I don’t know what it is… that’s a lie. I do know what it was, what happened. That botched spell so many many years ago, before I met my wife, before kids, before the good job… That treasure spell on that Halloween night that I pulled basically at random from Wedeck’s ‘Treasury of Witchcraft,’ my brother and I said the words, it was storming, I think (memory… a funny lying spirit), and we held onto that insufferable black cat, that rotten thing that made the house smell and wouldn’t hesitate to attack the hand that fed it, we held onto that cat to give the spell ‘more potency.’ That treasure spell that I can no longer find in the damn book. The spell worked, I found treasure after treasure, all ultimately worthless or squandered, throughout the month… and ever since, the spirit world has exacted payment after payment after payment.

Now, I am not one of those that thinks there is some ‘balance’ to the chi flowing in the universe and that every action has an equal and opposite magical reaction… no… I am confident that the energy in this world is infinite, it is the height of ego to think that a single human can even put a dent in the ebb and flow of whatever magical ‘stuff’ pulls things together for the magic-user. Nonetheless, the fact remains that something is and has been out-of-whack. My dear friend Ghostly Harmless made the excellent point that Hallows Eve is for feeding the dead, not asking for treasure and I’ve been working to appease the ‘dead’ in a general sense and trying to put right some restlessness in my own line… and still Octobers roll over me like a psychic and financial steamroller…

So it is fitting (and possibly a clue) that this week, as we approach Hallows Eve again, that I find myself reading and responding to ‘The Cats of Ulthar’ by HP Lovecraft. Cats are one of the primary foci of this tale (but not the only one), and are called out right away in the beginning:

“It is said that in Ulthar, which lies beyond the River Skai, no man may kill a cat; and this I can verily believe as I gaze upon him who sitteth purring before the fire. He is the soul of antique Aegyptus, and bearer of tales from forgotten cities in Meroe and Ophir…. The Sphinx is his cousin, and he speaks her language; but he is more ancient that the Sphinx, and remembers that which she has forgotten.”

Lovecraft did adore cats, and I can’t say I haven’t been partial to them through my life. I quite like the idea that cats carry knowledge with them through successive generations and that, if we could speak to them, they would tell us tales of cities lost to us such as Meroë and rich port of Ophir through which none other than King Solomon received his wares. Well, they might tell us those tales. More likely they can speak to us and just don’t, because they are cats and we are clearly the lesser species, unable to feed ourselves in the wild or find shelter or survive the cold. In the world of Lovecraftian Magic, the cat is also a direct conduit between the knowledge of our world and that of the Dreamlands, existing in both simultaneously. Lovecraft continues his tale, introducing in a clear and unambiguous way, the evil in the story:

“In Ulthar… there dwelt an old cotter and his wife who delighted to trap and slay the cats of their neighbors… But the villagers did not discuss such things with the old man and his wife… because their cottage was so small and so darkly hidden under spreading oaks at the back of a neglected yard. In truth, much as the owners of cats hated these odd folk, they feared them more; and instead of berating them… merely took care that no cherished… mouser should stray toward the remote hovel…”

Cats are so widely adored and indeed useful in the world today, that those individuals that go out of their way to kill them only boast among others of their kind. What is the metaphor here? If, in the first passage, we are to take away the sentiment that cats are bearers of hidden knowledge, embodying the occult, in fact, then what of this couple that kills them? Are they the enemy of knowledge? Are they the adversary of meaning? Another view might come from the grimoires, in which many a cat has been ordered to death for its blood and bones in magical ritual. Are the old couple in the cottage dark beneath the oaks a wizard and witch using materia felinus to malefic ends? This isn’t revealed, but magic is clearly a part of this world (half-Dreamlands, half-ancient Europe possibly? Layered on one another like some kind of augmented reality) , as is revealed by the vehicle that brings us our archetype:

“One day a caravan of strange wanderers from the South entered the narrow cobbled streets of Ulthar. Dark wanderers they were, and unlike the other roving folk… In the market-place they told fortunes for silver, and bought… beads from the merchants… What was the land of these wanderers none could tell; but it was seen that they were given to strange prayers, and that they had painted on the sides of their wagons strange figures with human bodies and the heads of cats, hawks, rams, and lions. And the leader of the caravan wore a head-dress with two horns and a curious disc betwixt the horns”

We would recognize this today as the Wiccan symbol of the horned god, which by extension connect it with Cernunnos or Herne of Celtic and English myth. Given the paintings described on their wagons, however, one would lead to something closer to Ancient Egypt, such as Banebdjedet or Khnumn in the context of the story. Given Lovecraft’s proclivities toward Ancient Rome, then the symbol could well be a representation of Pan/Faunus, which I have argued is the primary deity in Cthulhu mythos.

It is at this point that we are introduced to the archetype for the story, a member of the Dark Wanderers, a small gypsy boy:

“There was in this singular caravan a little boy with no father or mother, but only a tiny black kitten to cherish… the boy, whom [was] called Menes smiled more often than he wept as he sat playing with his graceful kitten on the steps of an oddly painted wagon.”

Menes was the name of an Egyptian pharaoh and folk hero. He was the uniter of Egypt in the first dynasty and was said to inherit the throne directly from Horus. He was spoken of in stories all the way through to the Hellenic period — so just as the Greek Magical Papyri, Menes the boy in Ulthar is lost, fragmented by the loss of his parents, but containing wisdom that spans two vastly magical cultures. The Menes in our tale is also a hero and we know that because, in his hero’s journey, he encounters the invisible anti-heroes of the town:

“On the third morning of the wanderers stay in Ulthar, Menes could not find his kitten; and as he sobbed aloud in the market-place certain villagers told him of the old man and his wife… and when he heard these things his sobbing gave place to meditation, and finally to prayer… as the little boy uttered his petition there seemed to form overhead the shadowy, nebulous figures of exotic things; of hybrid creatures crowned with horn-flanked discs…”

Ahh, now there is the clarification we needed, they aren’t horned discs like the Wiccan symbol of the Horned God, they are horn-flanked. This clearly indicates that the Dark Wanderers are devotees of Hathor, the vengeful sky goddess and psychopomp and Queen of the Cemetery who aided the dead in transitioning to the afterlife and was often represented as a sycamore tree, giving that old chestnut from Jimmy Scott a great deal more clarity.

Hathor had many altars in the Memphite Necropolis, connecting her to Menes, whom Herodotus claims as the founder of the city of Memphis. It is also of note that the Greek Historian Diodorus Siculus positions Menes as the ruler that introduced the worship of and sacrifice to the gods — layering our story back on itself if we are taking the position that the old man and woman in the cottage are grimoirists using the neighborhood cats in their magica materia. As the tale begins, so it ends, with the focus on Lovecraft’s favorite familiar:

“That night the wanderers left Ulthar, and were never seen again. And the householders were troubled when they noticed that in all the village there was not a cat to be found… little Atal, the innkeeper’s son, vowed that he had at twilight seen all the cats in Ulthar in that accursed yard under the trees, pacing very slowly and solemnly in a circle around the cottage, two abreast, as if in performance of some unheard-of rite of beasts… So Ulthar went to sleep… and when the people awaked at dawn... every cat was back at his accustomed hearth… It was fully a week before the villagers noticed that no lights were appearing at dusk in the windows of the cottage under the trees…”

So, our small gypsy boy in his dark caravan, this namesake of the progenitor of magic with his innovative approach to worship, what is his equivalent in the tarot? The secret is in this phrase:

‘as the little boy uttered his petition there seemed to form overhead the shadowy, nebulous figures of exotic things; of hybrid creatures crowned with horn-flanked discs…’

This image is on the face of the Judgement card, for all to see. Our Etteilla deck offers us only the cards title for a keyword, both upright and reversed, Le Jugement.

The term ‘jugement’ is from the mid thirteenth century and refers to one’s capacity for making decisions, it is curious that its divine definition, as is revealed in the card, was first recorded in the late year of 1610. The root of the word, ‘judge,’ is of course older, hailing from the PIE root *deik-, meaning to ‘pronounce solemnly,’ as did our archetype Menes when it was revealed that his kitten had fallen to the hands of the old couple in the house in the shadow of the trees. *deik- expands out to such words as addict, avenge, benediction (and malediction [word magic, in essence]), index, theodicy (the vindication of divine justice — a feeling the young wanderer no doubt felt following his own malediction of the cat-killers) and vendetta.

In her role of psychopomp, Hathor, the original Horned Goddess, is the Queen of Judgement. Menes, the founder of Memphis, planted the seed that grew into a giant necropolis, filled with crossroads and altars to her. Cats were also held in as high a regard in Egypt, to the extent that the invading Persian king Cambyses II conquered Egypt in 522 BCE by holding cats hostage. According to this article on ancient.eu:

“The Persian king, knowing the veneration the Egyptians held for cats, had the image of Bastet painted on his soldiers' shields and, further, "ranged before his front line dogs, sheep, cats, ibises and whatever other animals the Egyptians hold dear" (Polyaenus VII.9). The Egyptians under Psametik III, seeing their own beloved goddess on the shields of enemies, and fearing to fight lest they injure the animals being driven before the enemy, surrendered their position and took flight in a rout.

Many were massacred on the field, and Herodotus reports seeing their bones still in the sand many years later; he even commented on the difference between the Persian and the Egyptian skulls. Those Egyptians not killed at Pelusium fled to the safety of Memphis with the Persian army in pursuit. Memphis was besieged and fell after a relatively short interval.”

So it was the love of cats that brought low the Egyptian civilization in the end, creating a necropolis of their entire culture, planting their bones beneath Hathor as the sycamore tree.

Perhaps, in using the cat in the treasure spell, the dead did indeed hear me, as far back in timedepth as those laying at Hathor’s crossroads. I can see how my tiny naive, human plea for ‘more’ would have offended them and brought about my current state of cursedness as they whisper maledictions in the ears of fate. The dark trees that blow in the breeze, trees that shadow the house of those grimoirists that used Menes kitten for their spell, they are a deep and resonant symbol and warning of the importance of magical timing. There are moons that spells should not be cast under and judgement will find the magic-user, if they are.

#Twin Peaks #Sphynx #Bastet

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